The Cassolette
by mabarberella
Summary: The perfume emanating from her made me stutter, crazy with want.  Not want to drain her dry - I wanted her alive, heart pumping, squirming in pleasure. I had long ago mastered restraint, but it was slipping. I had never faltered, not ever. Until her.
1. Chapter 1

**The Cassolette**

**Disclaimer #1: You may want to read my one-shot, The Hummer, before you read this. Or, don't. See more below…**

**Just two short years after I posted The Hummer, I have finally FINALLY produced what I promised so long ago: The Hummer, only from Carlisle's POV. Now, don't get all "I don't do same story, different POV; it's a waste of my time" on me, I promise this is not that. This is Carlisle's back story – what led him to that fateful day where everything was turned topsy-turvy on its ass in that delicious red leather chair. Mmmm, how I love that red leather chair. Don't worry, it makes another appearance, promise.**

**Now, on to the important: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PUMA! Today is The Green Puma's ((at)thegreenpuma) birthday. Long ago and far away she and I totally fic-stalked each other. Long running argument about who-stalked-who-first later, we pronounced ourselves FicWives. The rest, as they say, is a sordid history full of late night breastfeeding tips, drooling over the Peach, juggling children and husbands, stalking celebrities in speakeasies, and general perving about. I love you, Puma. This one's for you. Happy Birthday!**

**I couldn't have done this without DazzledIn2008's crazy ass, who beta'd and shuffled words about, reeled me in when I went a little too far, and kept things as dirty as possible. Thank you, Honey!**

**Disclaimer #2: Stephanie Meyer owns everything except my plot twists, pervy Carlisle's dirty thoughts, and incredibly twat-numbing sexual frustration. Well, she owns a little of that herself, but not in this story… Thanks for the jumping off point, Stephanie! You made him Carlisle, I made him tortured and horny. LOVE!**

O.O

**Prologue**

O.O

I was in trouble.

Serious, _serious_ trouble.

The minute I walked into the ER a year ago to find her tantalizing beauty perched next to Charlie, I _knew_ this would not end well. And now, well, it was a year later and things were not improving.

I had to figure out how to fix this – for me and for Edward. He was my son in so many ways; I had to conquer these feelings. I had long ago mastered my restraint, but it was slipping. _Rapidly_. It worsened every day. Edward always saw himself as the end-all and be-all master of control, but I had over 200 years on my cocky son, and my self-control had never wavered. Not once, not _ever_. He'd had his days of playing god and tasting blood. I had never faltered – never even considered it. Not ever…until her.

The problem was, I didn't want to drain her dry. Not in the least. I wanted her heart pumping…oh, _yes_. Pumping. I wanted her alive-so, so alive-alive, squirming, thrashing in pleasure. Pleasure at my hands: head thrown back, lips parted and panting…above me.

Me. _Mine. _Shit, I was in so far over my head I couldn't even focus.

I was starting to lose my ability to keep Edward's mind probes fulfilled with innocent thoughts about the latest details of stem-cell or cancer treatment research. The minute I left his range of perception, my every thought was consumed with her smells, her beautiful body, her delicious, shy blush that made my venom pool in all its secret places.

I wanted her so badly I ached.

And poor Esme had no idea that our lovemaking wasn't relieving a thing. I loved Esme completely, but this was not about love. This was about obsession. I felt like a stalker with a frighteningly ferocious need to claim.

My vampire nature had been reborn with thoughts of her: possession, lust, obsession, and a violent need to be near her. It took all I had not to reach out and touch her when she would brush past me, not to purr in lust when she smiled at me, not to snatch her up and run off with her when I could smell her arousal…which was every single time she was in the vicinity of me, as those times coincided with time she spent with Edward. Edward, who had no concept of what it would feel like to take her in every sense of the word. To feel her around him, enveloping him. Not that I knew myself exactly how it would feel, as I'd never shared this experience with a human – only with Esme. But with a human, there would be differences: the heat, the allure of the pulsing blood, the desire to _take._

_Take. MINE! _"Ugh!" I blinked, twice, with intent, as if I could squeeze the thoughts out of my brain by squeezing my lids together. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Just thinking of her had venom gathering and my upper lip twitching to curl back and bare my teeth so I could let out a growl. I was panting, trying to control my thoughts, and each time I breathed out, a raspy growl threatened to escape.

This was _not_ working.

And this was how I felt after just passing her in the hallway on my way out of the house to leave for work. The minute the garage door had risen, I floored it out of there, the Mercedes responding easily, lurching forward toward the hospital.

"Okay, okay, okay," I said aloud, intentionally with an air of calm, thinking if I heard the words I would believe them.

But I couldn't.

When I had passed her in the hallway, she'd smiled at me, a friendly gesture. She had no idea what I was feeling… or more importantly, of what I was capable. In fact, she had no idea what _any_ man could make her feel, much less me.

I've studied people for hundreds of years. I know how women responded to certain touches, certain words, certain expressions… breath against their skin, a brushing of hair against their lips. I was a scientist, and even if I'd done so without crossing any lines of adultery, I had studied women's reactions to men. To vampires. To _me_. To each other. I had studied these things just as I'd studied almost every other aspect of human behavior: with tenacity and a fastidious attention to detail. It was my nature. I hadn't spent more time on these aspects of human nature than any other, as they'd not held any more interest for me than any other aspect of humans I'd studied. But now…now, it was all coming into play. Or not coming into play, as it were.

And because of my research, I knew things that men who had only one lifetime to dedicate to discovering would never know.

I knew how to elicit thrills with words.

I knew how to induce a shudder with a well placed accidental touch or soft expression.

I had made women feel this way just to experiment with what their reactions would be, but I'd also made women tremble with want without actually making an effort to do so. My natural attractiveness and my vampire allure drew women to me without my conscious interference, which was easily proven with a quick sniff of the air. The scent of arousal was so easy to detect: a heady concoction of pheromones, a dash of adrenaline swirling in blood, and the all-telling smell of a woman's want emanating from between her legs. What a lovely perfume. I've always enjoyed it secretly, only Edward possibly knowing - having heard an errant thought from my head when he was first changed, before I had become skilled in blocking him out.

The perfume that emanated from Bella, however, had the power to make me stutter and crazy with want. It was a physical response and was so intense, the first time it happened, I felt as I'd been slammed into a wall with the force of the reaction. That moment I realized that, whereas Edward's body was attuned so finely to the _song_ of Bella's blood, it was a song of a different nature that made me tremble with want.

My steps faltered that first day, but I corrected them before human eyes could take notice. With each step, I tightened down the control that I had worked so diligently to put into place over the centuries; only this control was not keeping me from drinking blood. It kept me from taking innocence.

Her complete and utter innocence added fuel to the well-stoked fire raging within me. I was a vampire, but I was a man first, and nothing was more alluring than a fresh rosebud so tightly wound on the vine. Unlike most men, though, these feelings brought shame to my unbeating heart. I shouldn't feel this way about my son's girlfriend, about a young woman. I was a husband, a father, a confidante, a leader, and a friend, and lusting after my son's girlfriend did little for my feelings of self worth.

I couldn't deny the physical reaction, though, and had tried to determine whence it came. I'd had no luck in determining its origins, nor why the power over me her body held was increasing in intensity. I only knew I was beginning to falter in shielding my thoughts and concerned I'd slip up with Edward as witness. I was also starting to lose hold of my cool demeanor in her presence.

For the duration of the drive home from work, I'd tried to piece together a plan on how to carefully set up mental barriers to keep my libido in check. If I was unsuccessful… well, I didn't want to think about those consequences.

O.O

**Soooo? Tell me! Loved it? Hated it? Just want to know what kinda undies he's wearing? **

**Unf, I love you, Carlisle, with your Jekyll and Hyde-ness all hiding behind your cool, calm demeanor. ::wipes drool off keyboard:: **

**This will probably be about 5 or 6 chapters. We'll see where Dirty Daddy C takes us. **

**On to the next REAL chappie. Which will be posted tomorrow. YES, tomorrow! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome back! Yes, another chapter, just because. Because Carlisle couldn't stop obsessing! (You know how he is…)**

**Again, this whole shebang is for The Green Puma because I adore her so…her and her magnificent bewbies. OH! And her pervy brain. Go read every one of her fics because they will MESS with you (in an oh-so-very lovely way.) Especially Centuries of Practice…UNF! Or, Tryst! JESUS H. I can't even…ugh.**

**Okay, before I get too caught up in fangirling all over her ass like I always do, one little note: these chapters will be sorta short. And a sincere thank you to DazzledIn2008, who beta'd and who spent many a gchat, email, and text message in her not-so-spare time trying to figure out what to call this story. All will be explained, do not fret. Also, she just posted a brand-new fic, "Beautiful." Dom Edward meets shy, wanting Bella. Hot one-shot ensues...**

**Now, on with the show! (er, the disclaimer first, then the show.)**

**Mandatory Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything except my plot twists, pervy Carlisle's dirty thoughts, and incredibly twat-numbing sexual frustration. Thanks for the jumping off point, Stephanie! You made him Carlisle, I made him tortured and horny. LOVE!**

**O.O**

**Like A Freight Train **

**O.O**

I smiled sincerely at the lithe Kimberly as I passed her, but the way her eyes widened so slightly, her lips pursed with pleasure, and her throat contracted as she swallowed did not escape me. I blinked slowly as she focused on my eyes and heard her heart stutter. I chuckled to myself, knowing that making her heart stutter didn't even require the employ of my vampiric charm: it was the attention.

My intention was not to mislead the women I worked with, but it was so frequent that I felt the fluttering of a heart or heard the sharp intake of breath that whether I intentionally elicited this behavior or not, it would continue. I had resigned myself to the fact that I truly did appreciate each of the women I worked with in their own right. And centuries of living among humans had taught me something very important: women were turned on in their minds, not just by their optical intake, as was the case for most men. And the thing women seemed to desire most? To be desired, to be appreciated, to be cherished.

And I cherished these women. They made a lifestyle choice to work long, hard, inconvenient hours, and committed their careers to caring for people. It was a choice I thoroughly respected – one I had made myself so many decades ago – and if my attention, although not intentionally aimed at seducing them, made them feel confident and sexy with a side of attraction thrown in, it was something I would graciously relish.

I was generous with my attentions; the more desired I made these women feel, the more confidence they seemed to have – not just with me, but it leaked into other aspects of their life: their work, their play, and their sex lives. Since I had been leaving the women of Forks General Hospital a little bit breathless, they seemed happier and a little more…satisfied. Who knew a little rev to the feminine libido engine would make mothers and sisters and wives a little more sure of themselves and in return, happy? Well, I had. But it didn't make me cocky. It made me happy for them and a bit relieved that I could ease the strain of making a living caring for others.

While well aware of the nicknames the nurses used for me behind my back, the fact that the female population of the hospital tended to stare a little too long or flirt a little too much didn't seem to bother Esme. She was herself a confident, secure woman. It hadn't always been that way, but as we grew and changed over the decades together, she had truly come into her own. She brought out the best in me and I, her. We were a match in intelligence, philosophy, and compassion, and she was the companion I had dreamed about for centuries before I found her.

And walking past the breathless Kimberly and pushing open the double doors marked "ER", it never occurred to me that I'd ever want – or need – anything more. Until that very moment, when I came face-to-face with something that almost ended me:

Bella Swan.

The second I walked into that ER my eyes were immediately drawn to the source of my demise. I felt my whole world slip, gravity cease, logic turn to nonsense. Her presence set every nerve on edge. Something came alive within me in that moment - something completely unknown and newly feral, born of smell and sight and venom and the beast within.

And she just sat there, rolling her eyes at her hovering, concerned father, unknowingly ending my existence as I'd come to understand it. The force of her scent was the first thing that threatened my grip on my inner beast. Her aroma was raw and pure and heady and its magnetism pulled at me with the force of a black hole.

Flashes of what my body demanded happen hit me like one tsunami after another. Pressing her against the concrete wall, pants ripped to shreds at our feet, her legs around me, heels dug into my thighs, eyes closed in ecstasy, screaming for more. I blinked quickly before the next vision pummeled my consciousness: my mouth buried in her neck - that delicious skin with its tempting warmth so barely contained - as her warmth squeezed my cock. Physically pushed backwards by the next vision, I stepped back as behind my eyelids as I took her on all fours, head thrown back in rapture, my fingers tangled in her hair.

I wanted her. Everything else disappeared. I had to have her in that moment, no matter the consequences, the witnesses, the wrongness of the entire situation. I wanted to growl and thrust and hear her lose her sweet innocence. I would end anyone who interfered. Kimberly, Chief Swan, whoever. She was mine for the taking and I would have her.

Shockingly enough, it was Kimberly who saved us all from a scene in that second as she absent-mindedly slipped Bella's chart into my hands as she turned to address Tyler's wounds. The feel of the metal sliding into my hands seemed to whisper the word "chart" to me from my subconscious. My mind snapped back to the present, to reality. I had to say something in the next second or two or I was going to draw attention to the situation.

Quickly rejecting the idea of trying to figure out what was happening to me or allowing my fantasies to go any further, I strictly focused on how to contain it. I needed to figure out how to hide the raging erection and quash the growl that was starting to rumble in my chest.

Feigning a cough, I stifled the growl. Almost too quickly for human eyes, I flipped through the chart then lowered it strategically in front of my groin as I approached the object of my very sudden and very serious desire. Every step closer to her became more difficult as I had to fight the urge to grab her and run for the door.

As I approached, she seemed to size me up, surprising me. Most women either immediately reacted with all the signs of attraction or they plastered on the fake smile required in a small town when meeting someone new you obviously already knew everything about. She did neither. I felt like I was being evaluated. And for some reason, that didn't help with the erection problem.

I regained my calm demeanor, at least on the outside, and introduced myself, letting her know I'd heard about the accident and how lucky she was. I flashed my penlight in her eyes, looking for any signs of concussion as she continued to study me. She then very calmly made it clear by her tone and her words that not only had Edward saved her but that it came with strange circumstances. She knew something wasn't normal, and she was looking for me to clue her in.

I, on the other hand, was barely containing myself this close to her, but the fluttering of her heart when she mentioned Edward's name was not lost on me. She was relaxed, inquisitive, and comfortable being so near to me, which was odd in itself, as the normal first reaction to being around one of us is immediate and instinctual reluctance. She, however, let me hover right next to her, unaware of the severe need to take her swirling beneath my composed appearance and kind words.

I acknowledged her gratitude for the convenient help of my son and quickly changed the subject, needing a way out of the room so I could analyze what was happening to me. I told her she was free to go but let the Chief know what to look for as far as possible latent signs of a concussion. And as I forced myself to smile in a friendly, rather than predatory, manner at her, I planned my escape route. I needed to be alone and I could hear Edward and Rosalie approaching the hospital, most likely to confront me about the accident and what Bella was prying to know. I would qualm their fears and lock myself in my office away from his prying mind until I could figure this mess out.

The only problem now was how to hide my now throbbing erection from two very observant vampires…

**O.O**

**Is it wrong that I so enjoy Carlisle's torment? It's just that he's so **_**together**_** all the time, that to know that underneath the surface he's FREAKING THE FUCK OUT is so attractive to me. Hmm…why is that? **

**My own psychoanalysis aside, please do review and let me know what you think about this crazy phenomenon that has grabbed poor Dr. Cullen by the balls – so to speak – and just won't let him go.**

**Until next time…probably on the weekend! A longer chapter awaits you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, my lovelies, you thought I'd forgotten you? Of course not. Carlisle won't stop pacing and obsessing and maybe trying to relieve some of that tension...hmmm... Oh, er...where was I? Oh, yes: chapter 3 and happy mother f'ing New Year to each and every one of you.**

**A very, very special thank you and bewb grab to DazzledIn2008 for her beta work and her loving bullying to get me to post and stop picking at this chapter. OH, and for the love of everything that's holy, go check out her TwiKink Fic story "My Wedding Present," which is only one chapter in and hotter than hell. And her other newby, Beautiful. A little dom/sub fic that is proving to be a little slice of wonderful.**

**A huge motorboat to TheGreenPuma, who continues to be the inspiration for this fic. It's still all for you, baby, even though your birthday has passed. ALL for you.**

**Any spelling, gramatical, and otherwise retarded errors are all mine. **

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything except my plot twists, pervy Carlisle's dirty thoughts, and incredibly twat-numbing sexual frustration. Thanks for the jumping off point, Stephanie! You made him Carlisle, I made him tortured and horny.**

**O.O**

**Cassolette**

**O.O**

After replaying over and over the scene in which I found Rosalie as her human life ended – the first thing I could think of to deflate my uncomfortable erection – I met up with Rosalie and Edward in the hallway outside the ER. Edward raised his eyebrow in question of my thoughts, being so out of place, considering the events of the afternoon. I quickly searched my mind for the article I'd read that morning in the _Seattle Times_ about a brutal gang rape and murder of a young teenage girl, then thought about how, thankfully, the events we deal with in the Forks ER only ever get as exciting as a simple meeting of a moving car with a parked one.

Edward's eyebrow lowered as he continued the argument he'd been having with Rosalie about what had happened before I'd approached , what everyone had seen, and fought with her about what should happen next. I diffused the situation on autopilot - mediation between these two after decades together had become routine, and my body, now humming along in overdrive, was anxious to either get back to the spark that ignited the fire sneaking around my brain or seclude myself so I could concentrate on the feeling and the reason for its existence.

After agreeing to a family meeting to discuss what to do about the witnesses and Bella's assumptions of the extreme non-normalcy of our family, I excused myself back to my office to finish some paperwork and prepare for the rest of my rounds. Once inside my office, I listened to Edward and Bella's heated remarks, and then to Edward finally leaving with Rosalie. I breathed a sigh of relief when I could finally be alone with my thoughts – my thoughts that began to weave and knot in confusion as I explored the events of the meeting that changed me from a calm, rational being to a man whose veins were pulsing with electric lust.

I tried to separate myself from the feelings so I could focus on the how and the why. As I dissected the chain of events that led to the crazy flashes of animalistic coupling, I focused on the one thing my mind kept coming back to: her scent. Not her blood, specifically, but her scent as a whole. Its femininity was burned into my olfactory memory, and my mind couldn't move on from that memory, like a needle stuck in an infinite loop on a scratched record. Those torturous few moments when I had been surrounded, intoxicated by that smell that lit me up played on repeat over and over and over.

Her smell roused within me a reaction I couldn't even begin to identify. I felt strung-out, wild, needy, and I wanted more. I wanted to bathe myself in it. I wanted to consume it. Quite literally, I wanted to _eat_ it. The sharp pangs of hunger had not graced my being for centuries, but this was not the same as needing something to fill an empty stomach. It was something to fill me completely – my mouth, my eyes, my hands, my need. If I could create a word that could depict the thirst for blood, the hunger for sex, and the lusty feel of an addiction – which I'd never personally experienced – I could _almost_ begin to describe it.

The closest my expansive, ancient mind could come was to pick out of an infinite vocabulary spanning multiple languages was the word _cassolette. _The direct English translation "perfume box," is so lacking. The essence of the word is much more meaningful. The French thought that the feminine smell – specifically, the essence of fragrance which emanates from between a woman's legs – should have a name: _cassolette_.

Bella's cassolette lingered like a fog in my mind that I couldn't lift and made me feel like letting loose a lusty growl. I could close my eyes and _feel_ her smell drumming in my veins as if I still had a heartbeat.

For the next few days, I replayed and studied my body's reaction to her upon our first meeting. Although she was completely oblivious to it, my whole being had been affected. Not only could I not get the vivid fantasies to stop playing behind my eyelids every time I blinked, but I literally couldn't shake the feeling she had elicited in me. I felt manic, electrified, and unsatisfied. I felt like a teenager with blue balls after his first hot and heavy makeout session. The only difference is that I was over three hundred years old, and I hadn't even touched her yet.

Yet.

And I kept thinking words like _yet._

I had to do something about this, but the only solution my mind would let me chose was the one that couldn't be: having her. In every way. In every sexual way, at least.

As time passed, the passion and confusion I felt did not dissipate, but rather seemed to become more and more of an obsession. This complicated things not only because I had to hide my thoughts from my son, but because, in fact, it turned out she was my son's singer. That, and, it became adamantly clear to me that my son had fallen for her. It took him weeks to figure it out, after coming to me for advice on how to resist her blood's siren call, a long stint in Alaska to brood, and finally, admission that he was taken with her.

_Taken_ became a much too tame word, however, when he admitted to sneaking into her room to watch her sleep. I knew then that this was bigger than I'd ever imagined; my son was in love with his singer. And his singer happened to be the object of my fanatical lust. I envied my son his midnight observations of her sleeping, sure at some point that during the night, her tossing and turning would expose a long, milky-white leg and possibly a waft of that delicious scent to him.

I believed, upon that conclusion, that things couldn't get worse.

And then he brought her home to meet us. In my _house_. With my wife standing next to me. I somehow was able to focus, albeit seemingly obsessively, over the dinner we cooked for her, or the questions Esme asked her.

Edward started to become confused by my brain's constant ramblings about this medical subject or that when she began to spend more and more time with him around us. He actually voiced his concern that I was too focused on my research and becoming somewhat compulsive about it.

I started to feel like I was leading a double life, a life out of sorts with who I truly was. I felt like a beast around her, not the man I had strived for centuries to become in order to separate myself from my animalistic side.

I began to experiment with these feelings, attempting to find a way to contain them. I tried to scientifically pick apart every aspect of every feeling I had for her when I was alone, to see if I could figure out a way to keep them in check. When that didn't work – it only led to more and more detailed images of how I could let those feelings come to fruition with her – I tried meditation. Meditation, however, only succeeded in letting my mind expand and become more creative with how I could seduce her and then watch her innocence disappear.

I finally tried expelling this inhibited lust while making love to Esme. I thought if maybe I let go, just a little bit… or a little _more_ than a little bit… I could find relief, even if only for a brief moment. And, although it was definitely unexpected, Esme did not object. At all. In fact, I was stunned at her reaction. She let loose a growl that shook her chest and made her whole body clench when I tangled my fingers in her hair as I took her from behind. She squeezed me so tightly I could only gasp and come, so surprised by her reaction that I preempted her own satisfaction… something I _never_ let happen.

But her reaction shocked me even more, as I noticed, coming down from my orgasmic high, that she had reached between her legs to work herself to her peak, slamming back into me as she rode out the waves of pleasure as they overcame her. I panted, not able to catch the breath stolen from me by the shock of her forwardness. Esme rarely took her pleasure into her own hands, and was always tentative to do so if she knew anyone – including me – could hear or guess what she was doing. To do this with me, and so, so aggressively, left me gaping, proud and shocked, and never more in love with my wife.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to relieve the tense, unshakable feelings I tried to quell each day. It was as if I'd taken Viagra, only to come five times and still be painfully hard. Esme didn't even seem to mind my reaction the first time Edward had – by Edward's entirely-too-chaste standards – kissed her for more than just a moment. She paused to say goodbye to Jasper and I in the living room and giggled as he led her away toward his car waiting outside, but her scent lingered in the room and closed in on me like the unwelcome but desperately desired high forced upon a sober addict.

I battled to focus my thoughts elsewhere and to keep my emotions neutral, but the difficulty of that struggle was all-consuming and did nothing to quell the arousal that struck me like a freight train, the aftershocks reverberating throughout my deceitful body.

As I'd just returned home from work, I feigned the need for a shower and excused myself from Jasper's company, raised eyebrows, and shocked, slack jaw to seek out my mate. My _mate. _My need was so great at that moment that I couldn't even think her name, but rather only that I needed to get off. _Now_. And I needed my mate to do that.

Fighting against visions of Bella in compromising positions, I climbed the stairs in four long strides and headed toward the master bedroom. I could hear Esme in the shower, my new destination. Esme's showers were somewhat sacred to her – it was the only time she ever truly took for herself. In all other ways, she gave herself to anyone who needed her, even when they didn't realize the need. But once a day, she took fifteen minutes for herself and secluded herself in a long, hot shower. I had never encroached on this ritual of hers, as the few times I'd hinted that I'd like to try, she had actually told me that it was her time to reflect and find serenity in being alone.

Today I didn't care. Her alone time could go fuck itself. I needed her, _now_, and I was going to have her.

Shaking my head of such intense, aggressive thoughts, I tried to pound back the beast and fake some semblance of control.

Having succeeded at regaining a miniscule amount of myself, I quietly opened the door to the bathroom and hurried toward the outline of feminine beauty twisting and floating behind the translucent glass of the shower door. The scene before me triggered a far-away memory of a Vaudeville burlesque show I'd attended decades before where a woman had danced with large feather fans behind a screen backlit with a bright light. It had been so arousing while at the same time innocent in the fact that I couldn't actually _see_ anything.

That was where the similarities with this moment would change. I had to see her.

Even as she turned at the sound of my quiet approach and my scent and muttered a confused, "Carlisle?" I had the door open and was stepping into the shower behind her. She turned around, her mouth agape in surprise, as she took in the shocking image of me invading her shower time. Wild eyes, clamped jaw, and fully clothed, nonetheless.

I didn't say a word. I pushed the door shut behind me with my foot and used my body to press her back against the tile wall, caging her in with my forearms. Her eyes widened in surprise as she registered my rock-hard arousal pressing into her stomach. I didn't wait for the question; I bent my head and crushed my cold lips to hers, which were _warm_. I immediately associated warm lips with Bella, and the fog returned to my brain, consuming my senses with the idea of what it would be like to press against and kiss Bella this way.

My last ditch vestiges of effort to push down these crazed desires fell by the wayside as I let loose. I couldn't contain the desperate need to feel warm skin against me and around me, and I allowed my subconscious to take over and let the fantasy become reality, if just for a moment, with my wife.

I had never fantasized about sex with another woman before Bella, and thoughts of another woman had never been the focus of my senses when making love to Esme. But now, I had let the idea take root, and I couldn't stop it. I needed it. I needed the release – emotional and physical.

In the millisecond that my restraint fell away, I very literally claimed her mouth with mine. She gasped, and I used the opportunity to press and stroke and pull my tongue against hers, relieved when her tongue danced with mine just as roughly. A moan vibrated in my chest, and the tips of her breasts, now warm from the shower, pebbled in response. I pulled away from her, my eyes closed, still reveling in the fantasy that this wasn't really Esme, but the human focus of my obsession, and slipped my hands between us, sliding them up her warmed skin to her breasts, lightly rubbing my palms in circles against her nipples. My fingers itched to feel the weighty warmth I dreamed about, and I gave in and squeezed, then rubbed my thumbs back and forth. She threw her head back against the tile, tiny, hairline cracks expanding through the tile behind her head. I lunged forward, so needy to feel the expanse of warm flesh exposed at her neck.

As I licked and sucked at her neck, I rubbed my hands down her side, around and under her ass, and into the crevice between her legs. From behind, I could feel her warm, slick desire, as I stretched my fingers forward. The tips of my fingers danced there, teasing, until one long whimper escaped her. My fingers reluctantly left her soft flesh to pull off my tie, dropping it to the shower floor with a slap as she nipped and sucked at my lips. Making it through the third button of my shirt was torture, even though it barely took a second, but I never got to the fourth, as her desperate fingers, clawing to draw me closer, tore through the material like it was tissue.

My fingers seemed to act of their own accord and took that as their cue to do away with the rest of the clothes between my skin and the warm, female, wet flesh in front of me. I did manage to get my belt off without ripping it, but my pants were not so lucky, as when I leaned down to unzip them, I caught site of a nipple and my tongue couldn't help itself, lapping away like my life depended on it.

As I crouched to push them down, I felt strong fingers in my hair, beseeching me. She had never asked me. Not ever, not once. But now, now she was pleading without pushing, asking without using words. Her panting and her stance gave her desire away, and I wanted it as much as she. I dropped to my knees, quickly placed her foot on my shoulder, parted her, and fucking _dove in. _

She was sweet and wet and warm here, and I couldn't help my groan as it escaped me. I knew it wasn't _her_, as the scent was not pummeling my senses into submission, but it was so hot, nonetheless, that I had to stroke myself as I licked and sucked and groaned, just to keep the ache from killing me.

And then she was muttering words not becoming a lady, and if anything, Esme was _always_ a lady. And it was fucking turning me on. I licked longer and with more pressure, flattening out my tongue and pushing a finger of my free hand into her, rapidly pulling out and thrusting it back in, chasing her pleasure and my own.

"Motherfucking shit, Carlisle. Now, now, now. _NOW_!" she screeched as she tightened around me, the first words clearly decipherable since I'd knelt before her.

I stood up and she reached down and stroked me, quickly, pulling as if pulling me toward the precipice upon which she was balanced. Her warm hand around me gave way to the last of my restraint. I could almost smell _her_ with that warm, tight feeling around me. The thought made me so hard, I felt I would explode.

I roughly grabbed her ass, pushed her against the wall, lined her entrance up with me, and slammed her down on my cock, sending sparks through me. The growl that escaped her, so uncharacteristic a sound for my mate, surprised and egged me on. I began to thrust, bouncing her up and down on me, roughing up the wall of the shower and not giving a goddamn.

"Oh Jesus, Jesus. Please, please, please-" The words escaped on their own, in time with my thrusting rhythm. She grunted with each up and down motion, and as soon as I felt her flutter like a rhythmic vice around me, I finally let go: I let the tension of secrecy and guilt and confusion and fucking repressed lust go. And I roared as I came.

The walls shook.

My breath slowed down, my head buried in my wife's neck. For a moment, I thought myself satiated, surrounded by warm and slick and beautiful… until I realized my subconscious was still searching.

Searching _her_ out.

The fantasy had fizzled out and left me unfulfilled, even as the last quivers of the best orgasm of my long life slid away from me. The itching to consume that smell was still alive and hadn't ceased its nagging of my insides.

I was thoroughly and royally screwed, and not in a good way. Even after the best sex of my life.

**O.O**

**Sooooo...? Did I go there with Esme? Yes. Could the Bellisle fans out there stomach it? I hope so. I'm trying to keep our dear, sweet, tortured Carlisle as canon as I can, as I think the more canon he is in this fic, the hotter it is. Yes, I'm a deranged motherfucker, but I can't help it. It's who I am. **

**So, tell me: where does poor Carlisle go from here? Well, if you've read The Hummer, you alread know, don't you. Or do you...? We're still a couple of chapters away from where The Hummer starts, methinks. A lot could happen between now and then... I'd love to hear each and every theory. :)**

**Until next time, my Sweets. And I promise, you WILL love next time. !**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, hello, there, lovelies! Yes, I'm back. Yes, it's been a few weeks, but I hope it's worth the wait! ****And let's be honest...isn't horny Carlisle ALWAYS worth the wait?**

**BTW, if I haven't responded to your review yet, don't worry, I WILL! And I LOVE all your theories about the humming and the obsession and what Carlisle can really do with his tongue... Dirty pervs! (I loves yas!)**

**This chapter would not be possible without: **

**A) TheGreenPuma, my muse. If it weren't for her perving all over The Hummer, I never woulda gone down this path,  
>2) DazzledIn2008, who beta'd this fucker within an inch of its life, spent many a maniacal squeeing phone call and all-caps gchat session helping me fenagle the plot so that Carlisle had his time to shine (and perv all over himself), and<br>III) All you lovely h00rs that review this fic. Especially the ones that review every chapter. EEEE!**

**Okay, enough rambling. I'm drunk on a posting high. Actually, I had TWO (count 'em TWO!) servings of the elusive Boulevard Brewery limited edition Chocolate Ale today, which I chased all over the city looking for and finally found in the dive bar near my office in the hood. ! But after three long years of pursuit, I can finally say: I tasted it. And OMFG, was it good. And I mean, good. Orgasmic, people. It's like alcoholic hot chocolate but delicious and light and full of deliciousness. And 10% alcohol content. Whoops.**

**Okay, REALLY enough rambling now. Disclaimer, then on to the show:**

**Disclaimer: ****Any spelling, gramatical, and otherwise retarded errors are all mine. ****Stephanie Meyer owns everything except my plot twists, pervy Carlisle's dirty thoughts, and incredibly twat-numbing sexual frustration. Thanks for the jumping off point, Stephanie! You made him Carlisle, I made him tortured and horny.**

**O.O**

**Wrapped Around Her Little Neck**

**O.O**

The day that she pushed Edward too far the first time, he arrived home looking like I'd felt since the day I'd laid eyes on her: tortured, aroused, frustrated, and ready to take down more than an herbivore. I suggested he provoke Emmett into sparring in the woods, knowing it would take so little effort on Edward's part to bring out the playful wrestling in Emmett. They took off toward the mountains, Edward taunting Emmett with promises to go easy on him, Emmett reminding Edward of the definition of pussy.

Just the mention of the word seemed to egg on my imagination. It had been weeks since I'd taken Esme against the shower wall, and weeks since Bella had spent time in the house with Edward, as school was drawing to a close and she was occupied with finals. So it was not surprising that I was shocked to find her at our door, which I purposely opened slowly as she approached, rather than throwing the thing off its hinges, as I desired to do.

Without Edward around, it was almost harder to keep myself in check, knowing that I could outright fantasize about her as she stood mere feet from me. I took a deep, pleasurable, tortured breath as she strode purposely toward my door, opening my mouth like a cat to fully ingest every particle her presence disturbed and tainted with her scent as she moved. My mouth watered, my senses flipped into overdrive, and my body vibrated with anticipation, seeming to hum faster and faster with every step she took toward me.

As she took the final steps up the front porch toward me, her skin rose in gooseflesh and her heart rate increased slightly. I wondered if it was her body's natural reaction to me as a man or to me as a vampire. She cocked her head as she stopped in front of me as if she were considering something before she smiled up at me. I tried to regain my composure, realizing I had been staring at her as if she were my next meal…or lay…or both. I died a little more, if possible, then, as I thought how I would love to…eat her.

"Hi, Carlisle. Is Alice around?" she queried as her pupils dilated slightly. "I was hoping she could help me uh…" she paused and looked anywhere but me before continuing, "…study for my calc final."

I stopped breathing so as to try to will down the wood that had taken up residence in the front of my designer, dark-wash jeans, all the while wondering why she was really here to see Alice, as she was a horrible liar, and I could see right through her.

"Good afternoon, Bella. Alice? Of course, she's just upstairs – " I started, just as Alice appeared next to me, cutting me off with her enthusiastic greeting.

She ushered Bella into the house with small talk, and just before she could be whisked away, Bella pushed one of my scarves into my hand as she cast her eyes downward and said, "Oh, and this is yours. I borrowed it a few nights ago when Edward and I went out – it was chilly and I didn't have a coat. He insisted I at least wear a scarf, and I just grabbed one off the coat rack. I didn't realize it was yours."

I folded the scarf over my arm and thanked her. Alice looked at me for just a second, her eyes glazing over. When her eyes refocused, she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Before I could even react, she'd reset her features into her normal upbeat expression and was trotting up the stairs, pulling Bella along behind her.

Confused about what she had seen, I pushed down my initial reaction of panic at being discovered for the pervert I had become. I shook my head to clear it of the remaining itching tickling my spine, urging me to seek out Bella's presence again. I ignored the reasonable idea of separating myself from her and permitted the desire to stay near her to make my next decision: I would return to my work in my study, where I'd been holed up since my last hospital shift, to continue my study of female pheromones and the effect they may or may not have on male vampires.

My goal with the experimentation was to try to regain some semblance of control over my life.

Although the introduction of Bella into my life had injected a hearty dose of heady arousal and liveliness of spirit I hadn't ever felt, I feared the lack of control that came with it. Her presence turned my carefully manicured, conservative, predictable life, that had always crawled along at a snail's pace, into a freight train skipping from one track to another without warning and at full speed, and I felt I no longer had a hand on the brake.

So, on a nightly basis, while many of the others were out hunting, I escaped to my study to test and test and retest the impact of physical female attributes on my senses. I had shamefully flirted with the nurses in the hospital until I aroused them and then pushed them further by standing a little too close, brushing them along a breast with my arm or along the hip with the outside of my wrist, touching them with a well-placed slow hand on a shoulder meant to appear friendly, or "accidentally" breathing in their ear.

Studying the response of my body to their reactions had left me without any further ideas about why Bella had such an impact on me. I was able to restrain myself and will away possible erections quite easily, and even when I let myself harden behind a carefully placed clipboard or desk, the need to indulge and claim was not tearing at me as it did when Bella was near.

I had even allowed one of the nurses to discover my tented pants and went so far as to stare longingly at her until I thought she might come undone without ever having touched her, but the "study" had been futile. I'd had no reaction other than to feel horny and shameful for leading her on.

I'd even resigned myself to searching out adult films with women who resembled Bella in form and stature, thinking that maybe if I could release tension while indulging in a visual fantasy I desired, it might lesson the crazed need that drove me to the edge every time she was near. The masturbatory marathons that I'd participated in one-handedly – and sometimes two-handedly – did no good, except for depleting the supply of sterile lubrication in stock at the hospital and making Esme lift her eyebrows in my direction upon my exit from my study on a regular basis.

I tossed the scarf down on my desk next to my laptop and got back to work. As I looked through my catalogued data and began to cross-reference statistics between different aspects of the experiments, the non-specific hum of conversation between Bella and Alice suddenly caught my subconscious' interest and pulled me away from my work.

"No, we haven't done anything except kiss. It's just…never mind. I shouldn't have even brought it up…" Bella's voice cracked slightly between her words, and Alice responded in a soothing voice.

"Bella, honey, don't cry. And you don't have to be embarrassed to talk with me about this. I'm your sister. Or, at least, I consider myself as such. Please, tell me. Maybe I can help."

"Well… I feel weird telling you – you're so close to Edward, and…"

"Bella, no one is truly that close to Edward. He keeps so much of himself to himself. But I love him as I love you, and talking of these things doesn't make me nervous or upset me, as you seem to think, so…just spill. It'll at least make you feel better to get it off your chest."

"Well...okay. I just…he pulls away. All the time. _Every_ time. And I know he has to because he's afraid he might hurt me, and I don't blame him for that. I don't. But I can't help feeling…well…rejected. Every time he does it. It makes me feel…unattractive, or…not worth risking a possible slip. I guess I feel like he loves me platonically and that's it. You know? Like I'm up on a pedestal and not something he physically desires or _needs_ to touch. I mean, he can't even touch me, Alice. He doesn't have to be near my throat to _touch_ me, does he? I mean, I know having his mouth so close to me is too tempting, but…couldn't he use his hands with his mouth away from me? Or at least try? Or at least suggest it? Or suggest an alternative? I just feel like…it's not worth the effort for him to find an alternative, and that makes me feel so…small. And one-sided in my passion for him. I know that's not it, but…" she trailed off.

"Bella, honey, he's a century old, but in the realm of relationships, he's so, so young. He really is a teenager when it comes to knowing how to treat a woman. Have you tried telling him – like how you just told me – how you feel?" Alice's voice was full of sympathy and understanding.

My reaction was split in its emotions; my heart went out to Edward for being so clueless as to how to treat a woman and wanted to guide him and help him understand how to approach this situation. The other half of it – the half that had become obsessed with her smell, the way she moved, the amazing experience her body could offer – made me want to slap Edward. Repeatedly. How could he be so insensitive to the fact that she needed this reassurance from him? He really had no idea how to approach this subject a little at a time – it was all or nothing for him. With all the experiences he'd had over the last hundred years, he was still living his life in black or white, just like the last day he was truly seventeen; shades of gray still evaded Edward's understanding of the world…especially the realm of physical love.

"I…I feel like I'm begging for affection when I start to have that conversation, and that just makes me feel worse. I know he wants me, Alice, it's just, I wish he would show me. Or tell me. I mean, he tells me he loves me all the time, but he never tells me…" she started, and then sighed as she gave up.

"Bella, I know how stubborn Edward is and how intimidating it is to have this conversation – especially since it's the first time you're having this type of conversation, but you have to be able to talk about these things. I know it seems you're making yourself too vulnerable and it's embarrassing, but to have a healthy relationship, you should be able to have a conversation about this. I mean, if you can't talk about having sex with someone, why would you entertain letting that someone put their penis in you?" she giggled.

Bella inhaled sharply, most likely in shock, and then bust out in giggles along with Alice.

"I guess you're right, that does make a lot of common sense," Bella conceded. "I'll work up the courage to talk with him…" she trailed off.

"In the meantime, let's talk about what you could do to encourage him to take some action…" I could practically hear Alice raise her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh…what do you mean 'do'?" she demanded.

"Well, what's something you could do together that wouldn't necessarily be pushing his limits, but that might make him…let's say…less able to hold back?"

The pause that followed Alice's question seemed exceptionally pregnant, and I found myself subconsciously leaning forward, as if to encourage her to answer.

"Well, um…erm…I know what definitely pushes him too far and creates immediate distance between the two of us… I rubbed up against him…like trying to _feel_ if he was…um…turned on, once," she let out a big breath. I inhaled harshly.

_Ugh, what I wouldn't give to have her rub up against me._

"Okay, so rubbing against him when he's hard is out of the question, then," Alice said matter of factly as if she were making a grocery list and crossing items off. Bella chuckled nervously. "What else?"

"Well, he does seem to like it when I kiss him right here," she said shyly. I almost didn't want to know where she was pointing, as I closed my eyes, envisioning where I'd prefer she kiss me. The thought of those soft, wet, hot lips against my own made me whimper with need. I pushed against my hardening erection, willing it to deflate, but quickly realized I didn't have to: no one could read my mind at that moment, no one could feel my emotions, and Alice was most likely too caught up in her conversation with Bella to think about listening for my movements in the other end of the house. I felt my cock jump at the thought that I might be able to touch myself – even just a little – in her presence, as it were. I would have to be silent in my actions, but just the idea that I could fantasize and feel some relief with her almost within smelling distance made my brain buzz.

"Well, now that's a start, Bella. Spend some time there. Slow, hot, wet kisses are the key to the slow build and not the immediate, desperate reaction," Alice said in her most school-marm demeanor as I added some much-desired pressure of my palm against my thickening cock through the thick denim.

_Slow, hot, wet kisses. Jesus, she's trying to kill me…._

"Oh, and I accidentally grazed his earlobe with my teeth once – he seemed to like that, I think? Either that or he really didn't…I'm not sure what his reaction meant," she said, eager to add more to Alice's list and hesitant about misreading his reactions at the same time.

"What do you mean, you're not sure what his reaction meant?" she said, concerned.

My reaction imagining her grazing my earlobe with her teeth was definitely one of pleasure; my hand quickly unbuttoning and slipping inside my jeans to roughly grope my cock was proof.

"Well, he kinda…hissed in a breath and held it. I wasn't sure if it sorta hurt or….? I mean, I guess I can't hurt him, but…?"

"Oh, honey, you found a money spot. Trust me, he definitely wasn't hurt, and he definitely was a fan of that move. I would suggest that you explore that area a little more. Maybe instead of just teeth, you try a combination approach. Maybe start with some chaste kisses, then move on to some licking, then some sucking? Save the teeth for the coup de grace," Alice said, as if she was explaining to Bella how to install a kitchen sink or solve a math problem.

The imagery that invaded my brain of Bella sucking on my earlobe, however, was the farthest thing from the logic of math. It made me shiver and move my hand in a steady motion, pulling and twisting. Frustration from the fact that my jeans were impeding my hand to move as freely as my cock desired, I yanked my jeans down over my hips and down to my ankles, settled back, and slouched down in my favorite red leather chair.

"So, I suck on his earlobe and then what? I mean, how does that get us from here to there? There meaning some sort of middle ground…" Bella sounded near defeat.

"Well, get him good and strung so taut that he might snap, and then send him home," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Wait, what?"

"Exactly. He will be all, 'What?' and you will tell him you need to get some really good sleep for something important and send him home. Or wait for him to be going somewhere and half an hour before he's supposed to leave, tell him he should probably go. Turn him on, then confuse him. And then, that's when you really hit him," Alice whispered conspiratorially.

"Hit him? With what? Why would I…" Bella said, confused.

"Not literally. You get him all fired up and wanting more, and then _you_ shut _him _down for once. Send him away wanting like he always does you. I promise his brain will be stuck like a scratched record. He's probably going to just stare at you incredulously, but stick to your guns. I promise, this will work. Especially with what you do next."

"Which is….?"

If what she was going to instruct Bella to do next was half as hot as being revved up and then shut down by the sexy, empowered woman I knew she could be, I was going to blow my load earlier than expected. Imagining her strong and confident and controlling the situation made me pump faster and pant just a little. I sat up and leaned forward so I could scoot to the edge of my chair and thrust my hips forward into my hand, as if she were on my lap, and I was thrusting forward into her. As my free hand sought purchase on the edge of my desk, my fingers closed around my scarf. The scarf she had borrowed. The scarf of mine that had been wrapped around her delicious-smelling neck.

Holding back the groan I wanted to let loose, I grabbed the scarf and held it up before me as I pumped faster into my hand. Oh, god, how perfect –

"Well, he'll leave, eventually. But reluctantly, and I can guarantee that he will linger outside your line of sight and try to figure out what just happened. And that's when you do it. Something he can't resist. Something he'll have to listen to…or even watch, if the situation is right…and it will break him. Break down that wall and maybe he'll stew on it for so long that he'll have to bring it up and finally start talking to you, or at least try to take things a little further…"

"What, Alice? What do I do?" Bella begged, frustrated.

And just as I draped the scarf with the forbidden deliciousness of her scent across my face, gnashing my teeth together to ground me as the sweet burn began to sweep through me, Alice told her what to do to make him break.

"You strip and dive into bed, as if you really were as tired as you claimed. And like I said, he'll stick around, although out of sight. And then you touch yourself, Bella. You masturbate to your little heart's content. It will break him, trust me."

The image of shy, now empowered Bella pleasuring herself, knowing someone was outside listening, combined with the overpowering scent of her lingering on my scarf that emblazoned my senses awake, pushed me so hard over the edge that I came with a loud grunt. The sound was reminiscent of pleasure and pain, and the shiver of aftershock that raced up my spine made me shake.

I blinked, disbelieving how hard I'd come, and hoping no one had heard. I panted and tried to recover as I tried to erase the image of a panting, sweating, writhing Bella riding her own hand out of my head before I hardened again.

With one final shaking sigh, I focused on finding just the right chemical combination that would erase the stain of ejaculate from leather, knowing now what Alice had seen. I also wondered what the right recipe might be to erase the stain of that image from Alice's poor brain.

**O.O**

**Weeeeeeell? I told you that red leather chair from The Hummer would make a comeback. ::giggle:: So...? Who wants to see Edward lose his shit over Bella takin' care of business? Or, would you rather find out what, exactly, Carlisle's going to do with that scarf down the road? Or are you more curious as to the chemical composition that removes vamp cum from leather? I'm partial to the second one, myself...**

**Also, if someone rec'd this fic to you, please let me know who I can grope - I mean, thank - gratuitously. Thank you to DazzledIn2008 for pimping me to her FB friends, in her last chapter of My Wedding Present (JFC, BTW, if you haven't read this, GO! NOW! Forget the review! hurry! so hawt), and on twitter.**

**Oh! And I tweet, if you wanna come find me (at)MaBarberElla. Mostly I just rant about stupid people, my hubbs (at)idleblatherings, retweet p0rn, and fangirl all over other authors.**

**Thanks, guys, for sticking with me! Another update soon! Maybe...if you review... :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**My dear dears! Welcome back! Sorry it's been awhile since I posted - RL has been a beeeotch lately, but alas, I am triumphant! Hence this post. :) Thanks for sticking with me, guys! **

**I'll catch up with you at the end! You guys have waited long enough for this chapter. **

**Disclaimer #2: Stephanie Meyer owns everything except my plot twists, pervy Carlisle's dirty thoughts, and incredibly twat-numbing sexual frustration. Well, she owns a little of that herself, but not in this story… Thanks for the jumping off point, Stephanie! You made him Carlisle, I made him tortured and horny. LOVE!**

**O.O**

Chapter 5: Panic, but no Disco

**O.O**

The idea that Alice had seen what I had done and why consumed my thoughts night and day. I had lived a moral life – on the "straight and narrow," Jasper had joked in his drawl so often – for so long that I couldn't remember ever feeling a guilt of this magnitude. I had been struggling to deal with the guilt of the thoughts I had about Bella, then the additional level of shame that was added when I started my experimentation.

I reasoned myself out of fretting over what the others might have felt if they truly knew what I'd been doing - pushed it away - because the driving force behind my charts, graphs, statistics, and marathon wanking to erotic film was to come up with a solution to the all-consuming desire to take and take and take her.

The proof of this was that I couldn't even bring myself to call it porn; I excused it away as "erotic fiction."

I was pathetic.

The masturbatory worship at the alter of the scarf that donned her scent, however, was a shame out of which I could not reason my way. Add to that the fact that Alice must have seen me chasing my relief before it had happened – in all its sickeningly sticky glory – made me panic. I couldn't be sure that what she had seen was exactly…well, all of it, as I hadn't consciously made any decisions before she zoned out, but I couldn't deny that possibility, either.

The next few days were slightly awkward between Alice and I. More on my part than hers. Edward sensed my unease, but seemed to read nothing in her mind that might give me away. Honestly, Alice seemed completely unaffected in a way almost unnatural to the situation. I didn't know whether to approach her or to feign nothing happened, so I chose the coward's route and moved on from that day with as much calm and unchanged demeanor as I could muster.

Jasper's intermittent sideways glances, though, were hard to explain away. They weren't intense or confused, but rather radiated surprise. I wasn't sure if he was surprised because he was sensing me feeling nervous or shameful, or if my ability to disguise my feelings superseded my perception, and he was just surprised at the renewed sexual prowess I let loose on Esme as of late.

I felt completely transparent, but it was possible that after centuries of carefully crafting control over my feelings – concentrated mostly on primal urges – it may have been possible that I was successful in disguising the truth of my feelings.

Whether or not I was fooling everyone, Bella continued to unconsciously drill away at my apparently calm exterior. She had no clue how she affected me, but with the few stolen glances I allowed myself, she seemed to have gleaned some confidence from her chat with Alice. She carried herself a little taller, as if she had a secret that made her stronger. Maybe knowing that Edward's reaction to her teeth scrape was one of arousal rather than fear made her feel sexier; maybe having a seduction plan of attack mapped out gave her confidence that someday, at some point, she would find relief.

All I knew was that the added confidence was making me hornier than a seventeen-year-old boy. I knew not whether she had enacted her conspiratorial plan, as I dared not linger thinking about it; the idea made me so hot, remembering how I felt when I'd come in her almost-presence with that damned scarf, that I literally couldn't bear it.

I took the scarf to work, and although I desired to jerk off again and again with it, I only kept it in my desk drawer. I didn't take it out and handle it, knowing that giving in to that desire would push me too far. But I thought about it.

Obsessively.

I couldn't risk doing it, though. Giving in. It would be the sweetest release, the most erotic luxury apart from having her in the flesh.

I salivated thinking about it.

I couldn't risk Alice seeing, though; I couldn't risk the additional guilt I'd feel for Esme, even if she didn't find out. I couldn't let myself indulge for fear that I wouldn't be able to come back from it. I had such a fear that I'd try to seduce her that I kept away from the scarf and her, almost enough to cause suspicion.

Almost.

The lack of suspicion on Edward's part, at least, gave me a little mental relief. The fact that Jasper sensed something from me should've made me uneasy, but instead, I focused on the one person that had been witness to an actual change in my persona: Esme. She was the sole outlet for my extra…energy. The frequency of our lovemaking had increased from every day or so to at least twice a day, and in environments and positions I had dared not pursue prior to Bella and her beautiful fucking hot smell barging into and taking over my life.

The last weekend hunting trip we had taken together had turned into a blood-hot sexual marathon that may have, in fact, frightened the wildlife out of upstate Washington. I had lured her to my office at the hospital on two occasions in the last month with the promise of some time spent going over home construction plans in preparation for our next move only to have hot, hurried sex atop my desk amongst charts and medical journals.

She complied happily with my desperate plea to have her, her legs spread wide, ass checks sliding against the glass desk-topper as I stood before her, slamming into her, swallowing her grunts and groans of satisfaction, all the while solely focused on the smell I could just barely sense emanating from the scarf in the top desk drawer.

I did see a curious cocked eyebrow every now and then appear on her sweet face as she looked at me across the room when she thought I wasn't paying attention, but she never seemed suspicious or even confused. Her attitude seemed more happily curious. She sensed a change in me, but she didn't feel the need to question it. I dwelled on her reactions like a marathon runner measures steps and miles, almost to the point of giving myself away. My concern for being found out almost trumped my insatiable obsession for Bella's scent, but I repeatedly beat it down.

My wife seemed happy with the introduction of a little bit of undomesticated lovemaking into our lives, and being the only outlet I'd managed besides the employ of my hands and maybe a clandestine sex toy or two (or four), I took advantage of it and tried not to dwell.

I was successful until the day I came home from work to a house empty except for Edward, Bella, and that wonderful smell, which assaulted me like a riding crop against tender flesh the moment I walked through the door from the garage.

It only took me one inhalation to be at more than half mast, and only a second after that to realize what was going on in that room upstairs; the slippery sound of lips against lips, the rustling of clothes against upholstery, and the quiet, muffled, pleading whimpers amid quick breaths gave them away immediately.

I tried to recover, disengage my body's reaction from my brain, and redirect the lust that consumed me into some other – any other – thought before I was discovered.

"Mmmm, Edward," she groaned throatily, bringing me back to my senses somewhat – long enough to take a breath, calm myself, and register in my brain, if not in the rest of my being, that she was Edward's girlfriend. Edward's, not mine.

Not. Mine.

That was when I heard Edward gasp, a sound that shouldn't have affected me, except for the surprise and thrill and barely contained desire I heard in that one sound. It rang so sharply in my ears that I ached for it to have come from me. A million visions flashed through my lust-addled brain of what she could've done to make him gasp that way.

My attempt to repress them failed miserably when I heard her whisper, "Turnabout is fair play." The only thing that could make me any crazier was what happened next. Edward choke-gasped in what sounded like shock, followed by a scraping noise, punctuated by a loud groan that he didn't even try to restrain.

And then I heard a sucking noise that made my brain so fried that I could hear the white noise of my consciousness checking out.

And I might've, if it hadn't been for her pleading.

"No please," she whimpered. The desperation in her voice was heart wrenching. Clothes rustled, then silence.

Then, "Bella." It was Edward, sounding exasperated and defeated. He was a fool; how could he just push her away time and time again? She was going to crack with the strain of it all.

"UGH! Damn it, Edward, I know, I know," she said, sounding defeated herself. How could he not please her, bring that flush to her beautiful cheeks as she praised his efforts with her moans and release? I would never push her away.

I could hear the frustration, the arousal, the teenage hormones, and that hot, pumping blood engorging all those lovely, pink places. It was driving me mad, the thought of it. I felt an agitated haze settle over my conscious thought. I wanted her, wanted her so badly.

I could fix what he could not.

"I'm sorry, I…" he said, the guilt tangible. For the life of me, I couldn't find it within me to empathize with him any longer. It was so unfair, his holding his affections ransom. She deserved to be touched, to let loose her affections, to stretch their beautiful wings.

"No, I know, it's okay," she said, her voice trying to reassure him but searching for relief.

"I…I better go, Edward. It's getting late, and Charlie gets off work in half an hour." It sounded like she was preempting his reasoning for cutting short his affections before he could open his own mouth to do so.

She sounded so calm, but her racing heart betrayed her words.

"You're right," he said, even as he struggled to control his breathing. "I'll take you home."

"Okay. I'm just going to step into the bathroom before we go," she said, the defeat having taken hold completely of her demeanor.

"Yes, well…I'll go get those boxes from the garage so you can take them home to pack," he said. I heard a chaste kiss – of course! – and then Bella agreeing.

They left the room, Bella quickly closing the bathroom door next to his room, Edward making his way down the stairs in my direction.

I cleared my mind of all things Bella and thought about the grotesque surgery I had performed earlier that day to attempt to control the obvious wood pressing against the zipper of my jeans. I quickly slipped into my study before Edward could discover me hovering on the threshold to the garage.

He acknowledged my presence with a quiet, "Hi, Carlisle. Bella's upstairs. We're leaving in a few minutes. I have to hunt quickly – I have to find…something. To kill. If she comes down in less than five minutes, will you distract her? I will be back as soon as possible."

"Of course, Edward. Is everything okay?"

"I'm so incredibly thirsty suddenly – I have to drink something quickly or put my hand through a wall. I think Esme would prefer I hunt," he said in a ragged, breathless whisper.

"I understand. I will stall if need be." Always the reliable, paternal, asexual leader.

He muttered a thank you and quickly slipped out the French doors that led to the porch.

Leaving me.

With her.

I had no way of knowing if he'd heard my thoughts during their encounter upstairs, but I assumed by the calm nonchalance in his voice that his mind had been distracted enough not to have. I breathed a sigh of relief as I switched on my computer, trying to ignore the fact that a frustrated, beautiful, most likely _wet_ girl hovered upstairs trying to calm herself down from an unsuccessful makeout session with her fiancé.

I tried to lose myself in research while refraining from Googling porn, brunette, and spinner. Just as I was clicking "search," I heard Bella sighing in frustration from the bathroom.

Knowing I shouldn't, and that Edward might be back at any moment, I allowed the pull that was always present when she was near to drag me toward her. I slipped up the stairs and hovered outside the door, feeling the electricity that always took up flight through my veins when I was near her, and I listened, like the sick, sick fuck that I am, to her in the bathroom.

"Ugh, Jesus," she moaned, and my eyes widened in disbelief as I heard the distinctive rustling of flesh against cloth against something that caused extreme pleasure, proven by the whimper that emanated from her lips behind the door.

The idea – the mere thought – that she was touching herself behind that door floored me; I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I found myself panting, matching her breath for breath. I pressed my palm into my erection, grateful for the rough texture of denim against my cock. I felt the strange hum that was always present when she was near start to intensify as did her breathing. I heard her fingertips brush against skin and had to physically hold myself back from ripping the door off the hinges to find out exactly what she was touching.

Suddenly, and with a sigh, it all stopped: the brushing of fingertips, the moving of clothes against flesh, the quickened breathing. The abrupt stop was punctuated with a frustrated, "UGH!" from Bella, and the slap of flesh against marble.

I wrenched my hand away from rubbing my jeans roughly against my cock just in time to realize she was taking steps toward the door. In an instant, I was down the stairs and fleeing to the garage toward the safety of my car and the distance from her – and Edward's return – that it would provide.

I wasn't sure she hadn't seen me, but I had to trust in the fact that her eyes were human and took milliseconds to focus. I had been gone before she'd finished opening the door. The door I had been so close to removing in order to get to her.

I had been so close to doing it.

I spent the next few moments with ears trained on her footsteps making their way down the stairs and willing down an erection, the likes of which I had never experienced. I felt like I could drive nails, pleasure every single Rockette, and use the wet-dry vac for an hour before this erection would be satiated.

Close as I could get to normal in her presence, I reinstated my benevolent smile and kind eyes as I pretended to make my way in from the garage. She was walking toward me, a tentative smile on her face. Nothing, though, could distract my perfect senses from the heady perfume emanating from between her legs.

I refrained from the deep breath my lungs desired so, and trained my eyes on hers, trying to see her as the human she was: my son's girlfriend, not just the object of my extreme sexual desire.

Her flushed cheeks, pungent scent, and sweet smile ignited something in me that urged me to roar and curse and take and fuck. I vibrated with lust; her scent forced my control to its limit.

When she noticed me, her eyes widened and her breathing seemed to accelerate just slightly. I could almost swear even more of that delicious scent filled the space around her.

What was this reaction? Could she be attracted to me? Could her body sense my intense desire? Could what was left of a human's animalistic receptor sense some pheromone-type secretion my own body was creating? Even my pores couldn't resist trying to draw her in.

"Ah, Bella," I said with a measured breath through only my mouth, while I struggled to make small talk. "On your way home to pack, I hear?"

"Yes, and to spend some time with Charlie before the wedding," she said, her frantic heartbeats distracting me for just a moment from her intoxicating smell.

"Well, Charlie's a lucky man to have such a thoughtful daughter," I said, smiling again, trying to appear fatherly to distance myself from her mentally, even if I could barely contain my reaction to her phsycially.

I placed my hand on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture and almost lost consciousness at the electric energy that immediately hummed through me. I found myself humming and nodding for no distinguishable reason, and unable to detach my hand from her. It was as if my body was rebelling against me, making decisions on its own regardless of what was right or proper.

The moment lasted too long, and as I tried to regain control of my extremities – all of them – she blinked and shook her head, smiling up at me. She stared at me with something that bordered on adoration, shock, and possibly…attraction?

Before I could do something passionate and desparate, I pulled my hand away, much to the distress of my body, and laughed nervously, searching for something to say.

"Well, I hope we'll see you again soon," was all I could conjure.

A vampire, head of a coven, 300 years her senior, struck dumb by a human girl barely aware of her own femininity, much less the power of her sexuality.

God help me.

God, please do help me?

"Yes, yes of course, tomorrow," she said, surprising me with the specificity of her response.

"Tomorrow, then," I said, unable to hold back the intense drinking in of her that my body demanded, knowing she would be leaving my presence. And knowing that she would be back for my senses to feast upon the next day.

I patted her once more on the shoulder, unable to give up the feeling coursing through me at the physical connection with her, and then ripped my hand away from her. I intentionally brushed her body with my shoulder as I forced myself away from her in the small confines of the hallway.

Confines in which my subconscious had already painted with fifty three different ways to deflower her.

By the grace of some torturous god, Edward arrived in the driveway just as she stepped past me. Blinded by the haze of her presence, I had completely forgotten my promise to stall until he was back.

I heard her take two unsure steps, stop, and breathe deeply for a moment before she continued on out to the garage. Even after the door closed between us, I could still feel the tangible electric zing that hummed through me.

I was lost, and she had no idea that she'd already sealed her fate.

I had to have her. I had no idea how I'd live with myself, but I knew if I denied myself the pleasure any longer I would literally lose my mind.

She was unsafe around me, but I couldn't bear to separate myself from the situation.

All was defnintely lost, even if she didn't know it.

I stumbled back into the garage, jumping in the black Mercedes, heading for the only slight refuge I could conjure at this point: work.

Maybe I could lose myself in my work, if only for a few hours.

I was kidding myself – she had taken over my life, my thoughts, and even my subconscious.

Work was where the scarf and more of her scent was.

I was so fucked.

**O.O****  
><strong>  
><strong>AN: Sooooo…yeah, he's fucked. Sorry, Carlisle.**

**And on another note: I have the best reviewers in the freaking fandom, people. I can't believe the reviews you guys leave me every time I post. What I lack in quantity, I seriously excel past all others in quality, and I love you for it. I just wanted to tell you all en masse, since I don't always get my replies done. I mean to, but RL, you know. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Same story, different author. But I do cherish them all and take them all into account, so thank you. Seriously, yous guys. Seriously.**

**This one, however, won the prize for biggest gaffaw outta my mouth:**

**"Just let Carlisle eat her out already!"**

**Now if I did that, we woulda been done with this fic in the first chapter, wouldn't we have? :)**

**One last thing: if I'm not already following you on twitter, PM me (or Review-me?) your twitter handle and I'll follow your ass. Cuz, secretly, I wanna know what all you h00rs are thinking on an everyday basis. If you wanna follow me, I'm (at)MaBarberElla**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the long A/N in advance, but it's a must-do.**

**Yes, it's been a hundred years, I know. Let's all acknowledge it's been unnaturally long since I updated.**

**Good! Now we can move on.**

**Okay, so this is how bad of a person I am: I forgot to give props to my beta when I posted my last chapter. Forgot! Can you believe that?! Bad, MaB, BAD! :::slaps own hand::: **

**So now, I must do her justice:**

**Thank you, DazzledIn2008, for everything you do: the beta-ing, the very important business-like pervy phone calls after work where I try to make you say "partial-facial" in the checkout line at the grocery store, the inspiring p0rny photos of half-nekkid tattooed dudes that "could be" your mechanic Edward, the squeeing text messaging, the fuckhawt photos of Jackson, Peter, and Rob you send me to load on my phone as your picture caller ID, all of it. I heart you, BIGTIME. This would be half the fic it is today without you.**

**Also, stop tormenting me with your new fic, Beautiful, and just put me out of my misery already! JFC, woman, that last chapter with Carlisle…UGGGHHHHHH! If you're not reading it, my lovelies, please abandon this immediately and go read it. It's fantastic. **

**Also, thank you to .com for reviewing The Cassolette and awarding it the AdVocated badge, and then pimping the crap out of it over and over again on Twitter. SQUEEEEEE! I can't tell you how honored I am that you guys liked it so much to rec it. THANK YOU! Go check out their site – it's pretty f'ing awesome – it's love for the unloved (unusual pairings, underappreciated fics, etc.) and it's got some fantastic fic recs!**

**One last thing: for those of you who love you some Jasper, you're really gonna like me after this chapter. I am totally enamored with Jasper and will someday write the Jasper fic that's been swimming around in my head. In the meantime, there's a little Jasper hawtness below, if that's your thang.**

**Okay, disclaimer, then on to the sheeeoooow:**

**O.O**

**Not the Only One**

**O.O**

In the wee hours of the next morning, having just returned from work, I heard Edward chatting with Alice in his room.

"Are you and she still planning on shopping today? I thought we were all going hunting the whole weekend? I'm fine with it, though. We'll stay." he said in a slightly resigned tone.

"No, Edward, you need to take down something…substantial. You need to indulge and let go. You and Emmett and Esme go ahead. Jasper and I will follow along later, once Bella falls asleep. You need to hunt,"

"It's fine, Alice, I'll stay and go with you. Emmett and Esme can go ahead. I don't like the idea of leaving Bella alone."

"She's not alone, Edward. She's fine with Jasper and me, and then Carlisle will be here – he hunted Tuesday and yesterday because he has to work this morning and again tomorrow morning," she explained, a slight edge to her voice.

"I know, but I just don't – "

"Edward!" Alice cut him off, frustration clear in her voice.

"Jesus, Alice! What? Why are you so intent on me leaving?" he said, a suspicious edge creeping into his words.

"Because, Edward…be-because…" Alice stammered.

Alice never stammered.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself, and then: "Because it happens if you stay," she said quietly, hesitantly.

"What do you mean it happens?" he urged, concern lacing his baritone timbre.

There was a pause, and then a gasp. "Oh. Oh! Alice, are you sure?" Edward spit out, panic now clear in his voice.

"Yes, Edward. You've been strung so tight lately, and I didn't realize how tight until the vision accosted me last night after you two…spent the evening in your room. I didn't know…I shouldn't have encouraged her."

"Encouraged her?" he said, confused. "What do you mean, encouraged?!"

"Well, she's been so frustrated, Edward. She begged my advice. So I told her to take matters into her own hands, and, well…push you a little."

"WHAT!?" he roared. "You encouraged her to push me farther? Do you have any idea how close to snapping I am when I am around her on a normal day? Much less yesterday when she...Jesus…" he groaned, obviously reflecting upon their makeout scene from the night before.

I fought off the urge to replay in my head the sounds she'd made the night before, to avoid giving my thoughts away to Edward.

"She was in tears, Edward, I was trying to help. She's strung tightly, too, and has no outlet. It's not like she can rush off and kill something to get it out of her system for a few hours. I thought if she pushed you just a little you would maybe meet her halfway. You know, start slow, touch each other…" she led, suggestively. "Obviously, I was wrong."

"You know I can't…" he trailed off suggestively. "I can't, Alice," his voice breaking on her name. "I want to touchher so desperately…but I also just want to... I want to _break _her. And it would kill me," he whispered.

"Hence why we are hunting, no questions, Edward. I'll let her know – she'll be fine with it. Look, I understand. It's been building slowly over the years, for both of you, but now – now it's become all-consuming for her. You're a danger to each other," she chastised.

"Do you – have you seen the future changing? Can she…can she survive it? Can she survive us?" he said, grasping for something positive from her.

What did he mean, survive "us"? Did he mean the two of them together? Or was someone else here a danger to her life?

"I'm – I'm sorry, Edward," Alice resigned. "From the moment she agreed to marry you and you agreed to try, the vision concerning you consummating your relationship hasn't changed. If you and she… You can't, Edward. The minute her virginal blood appears on the scene, you snap, and she…"

"There's got to be another way, Alice. With me, you don't even see her surviving long enough to become…one of us…and I can't…I can't exist without her. I can't leave her, and I can't love her…I'm lethal. And the fact that I desire her so much that I would give in and kill her just disgusts me to no avail…"

"Edward, stop. You've seen bits and pieces…there may be another way, and I think…that may be what has to happen. I saw something once some time ago… Then, well I had a new vision the other day…and then again a few hours ago."

There was a pregnant pause, as she let whatever she was showing him sink in.

"I know it will be so hard for you, but it may be the only way," she said, tentatively. "You've known for some time now, though, that this may be the way it has to happen, haven't you?" she said with such tenderness, I couldn't imagine at what she was hinting.

"Yes, Alice," he said in a defeated, quiet tone. "I just…it shouldn't have to be this way. It should be her and me and perfect and slow and sweet and…and that ends with her dead."

"Yes. And it's certain that if you don't go hunting, she dies tonight. And not to be reborn one of us," she said with finality. "Look, don't worry. She's safe here. She's going to want to take a nap this evening anyway – she didn't sleep well last night after you wound her up and left her panting," she reasoned.

"If you're certain… How will I cope? I have to, if it's her only option to live. I hate to leave her alone even for a moment. I feel so lost when I'm not near her," he admitted.

I knew the feeling.

"Look, we'll talk through it this weekend. I promise, everything will be okay if you just…let go," she promised.

I wished for a moment when I could let go. I felt like I was going to snap and consume Bella myself…but not her blood. I feared for her innocence as much as Edward feared for her life.

Alice finally convinced Edward to leave with Emmett and Esme, promising to follow with Jasper and catch up with them once she was back from Port Angeles.

"Jesus Christ, the sexual frustration in this house is about to push me over the edge," Jasper admitted as he made his way deliberately down the stairs a few minutes later. "I'm going to need this hunt this weekend just to make it through another week of deer and fucking high school."

"You know how difficult it is for him. Remember your struggle with our diet when you first joined us. I remember a different kind of frustration that radiated through this house back then." I still felt the fatherly need to defend him – I was still the peacekeeper, a role that didn't easily mix with the need to completely consume my son's girlfriend, but a role that was still important to who I was.

"Ah yes, the roughest six months of this family's life to-date. It was a test to everyone's will, really, having my blood lust taunting you all. But you and Edward, neither of you ever seemed that close to giving in. At least I never felt it from you, but again, my mind was elsewhere…" he stared off past my shoulder, a longing creeping into his now-kind eyes.

"Jasper, really? Was it that great before you met us? I think not if you've lived with us this long and stuck to it. You seem happier now that you're a vegetarian, no?" I knew Jasper was happier; I wanted to hear him say it, though. I felt honored being their leader, but from time to time, I needed to hear the reassurance of their trust in my leadership.

"Of course it wasn't that great, Carlisle. You know I prefer this life. It's hard, though, sometimes. The temptation never completely dies," he says, licking his lips unconsciously, a look of lusty longing lingering on his features.

"And it's not always the blood, Carlisle. It's all of it – the complete letting go that comes with that lifestyle. I ate what I wanted. I went where I wanted. I fucked who I wanted. It was truly giving into the animal inside. It was glorious…horrifying to the man inside, but glorious to the beast," he said, a faraway look in his eye, and a fleeting feeling of exhilaration and arousal radiating from him.

"And yes, I let go from time to time…with Alice, hunting," he says, a subconscious eyebrow raising on its own to accompany the faraway look in his eyes, "but it's not the same. Luckily, I have a woman who understands, and helps me deal with it. Like lately…" he trailed off, looking back at me, the eyebrow still near his hairline, a complimentary corner of his mouth rising, "I'm not the only one reacting to the sexual frustration in this house…"

I stopped breathing.

"…am I, Carlisle?"

I stared at him, dumbstruck.

Literally. Struck. Dumb.

I had no idea what to do, to say. No next move. I was found out, and I had no idea how to deal with it. I hadn't yet panicked, but that was the next step once I had my wits back about me. I studied my folded hands on the counter, attempting to look stoic while desperately trying to pull my shit together.

He chuckled, smirk still in place, eyebrow finding its way back down to its normal position.

"It's fine, Carlisle. You know I don't give a flying fuck how many times you and the missus get it on. In fact, the luckier you are, the luckier I usually am, based on my lovely ability to absorb and radiate. Not that Alice ever needs the extra push…" he says with a slight nod, remembering, "but I can't deny that the extra freaky I'm radiating at this family – all because of the hormonal, emotional rollercoaster that lovely young thing is riding, and the frantically sexual, tormented feeling coursing through Edward – isn't…well…fucking delicious."

My head snapped back up to meet his gaze, completely shocked and taken aback at his admission. I was in the clear – he thought my crazed sexual anguish was a result of the sexual frustration he was radiating as a result of Bella's normal and Edward's self-deprecating torment.

"So sue me, Carlisle, for getting off on it. I can't fucking help it, they way you're all throwing it back at me, and besides, it's too good to waste, right? It's either that or I fight it all the fucking time and live miserably like Edward.

"I indulge, and Alice reaps the benefits. So what? I mean, I can't fucking help it, having that delicious-smelling morsel running around here wetter than Seattle in March with her hot blood pumping and her thighs discretely rubbing together while she stands there and tries to remember her manners – smiling her please and thank you – and looking like she does? I mean, Jesus Christ, Carlisle, how could anyone resist that delectable, succulent, naïve woman? Edward's dick must have some kind of gangrene."

I stared at him in utter shock, completely floored at his admission of attraction to her.

"If she ever decided one day to show up here with that sensual smell _and_ demurely sporting a school girl outfit, it would be all over for me, for her life, and her virginity, Alice and Edward be damned. I mean, I love Alice, but I am a man _and_ an animal, and I can't deny it all the time."

I could feel the lust rolling off him in waves now. It was starting to make my cock ache and my vision blurry. The strangest feeling was welling in me: attraction – aimed at Jasper? I couldn't even tell anymore – mixed with longing, lust, and something I hadn't felt for centuries. True bloodlust. Animalistic lust for blood and sex. It felt…right. Wild. Exciting. All-consuming.

It surprised me, as the feeling was close to what I felt for Bella, but for the bloodlust. I understood why this feeling was coming from Jasper, but I needed to separate myself from him before I started feeling it too strongly. I was so overwrought with the effort to keep myself in check that at this point, anything was possible, and anyone was game. And I knew Jasper wasn't particular about gender when it came to getting off; he had strayed before – never within the family – and Alice was never one to judge or reprimand; in fact, she encouraged it over indulging in bloodlust, but I'm sure even she had her limits, as did I.

And I didn't want to fuck Jasper.

Not by a long shot.

I wanted something more…lively.

**See? You know you want some of that Jasper, though, don't you? I know you do. **

**BTW, thank you, thank you for continuing to read this crazy endeavor. Reviews are like snuggling with the Puma at Comic-Con. OH! Or meeting Wrong13. Or, like Peter Facinelli's guns in that shirt he wore to Comic-Con. JFC. I mean Jesus. F'ing. Christ.**

**LOVE!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

**Yes, it's been forever. Seems to be the way I start out all of my A/N's. This chappie is dedicated to TheGreenPuma. She specifically requested the content of this chapter. Maybe not the way the scene was set, but the climax (giggle) was all her. **

**Thank you for continuing to read this, especially since I haven't updated in so long. And especially for such a short update. I appreciate YOU! No more BS. Let's get to the good stuff (i.e. Carlisle…)**

**O.O**

**Giving Up**

**O.O**

After Jasper's typhoon of arousal threatened to physically knock me over, I excused myself to my study while he took off with Alice for an emergency hunt, which is essentially code for coitus in the woods.

I closed and locked the door to my study, leaning back against it and sighing heavily as I did so. Esme was nowhere to be found and I trembled with the need to relieve the insane amount of sexual energy pulsing within me, fighting to break free.

I pushed thoughts of returning to work just to seek out the presence of the scarf, and gave in, instead, to some serious time in front the computer, searching out any and every image that even remotely resembled that fresh, girl-next-door type that Bella embodied.

Finding one that truly looked like her from the back – an image of a lovely, curvy woman stretched out on her stomach, the bed sheet falling to just below the crack of her ass – took the amped-up arousal Jasper had left me with and turned it into rock-hard desperation for release. Without making a conscious decision to do it, my lab coat found its way to the floor, my dress shirt found itself open to my waist, and the fingertips of my left hand brushed and scraped themselves to my right nipple.

Breathing quickly, my teeth caught my right thumb between them, clamping down at the edge of pain. My libido was warring with my control, even in my subconscious; my eyes sealed the deal for my libido, though, when they slid shut and began to imagine that the hand now pulling and pinching my nipple was hers. It was her thumb between my teeth, which I released and was now making slow brushes along the length of my bottom lip.

I imagined her smiling up at me from her seat on the arm of my chair, tentatively touching me with that innocent smile on her face. Looking from my face down to her hand on my nipple and then lower…entranced with the tent I was surely pitching in my pants. I pictured her dragging her hand lower, rubbing lightly over the silky material of my gray trousers. I was so close to coming at just the thought of her warm palm and fingers gliding and squeezing, trying to figure out what a man truly feels like under all those clothes.

Running my tongue over my lower lip, I pushed her hand on my nipple down to the button of my pants, urging her hands to free me from my prison. Her hands instead left my lower half as a whimper escaped me and began their exploration of my face, my neck, my lips again and again, and then my chest. As her hands drifted lower to my abs I felt a need rise within me so strong it made me want to cry out. I needed her warmth against me, on me, around me. I needed that smell.

I tried to imagine it here with me. I opened my eyes, staring at the picture again, imagining her physically here with me: naked, prostrate, and vulnerable. I focused on the curve of her hip and how it flared to her backside. Even though just the idea of doing so literally made me salivate, I would repress the urge to scrape my teeth along that curve or tap it tersely with my palm; she would not be ready for such moves. Instead, I would let my cold fingers trail along it, over the crack and down under the curve of her ass. I would palm it, squeeze just slightly, relishing in the supple heat.

She would reach toward me, wanting to pull me in for a kiss, but I would resist, wanting to focus all the attention on her – tantalizing her senses by teasing her body. I would brush my hands down those long, graceful legs, and then back up, fingertips teasing the inside of her calves, her knees, her thighs, which would part so easily and unconsciously. She would respond by pressing her naked flesh against the cool cotton bed sheet offering her divine pressure in all the right places: nipples rubbing lightly against the long fiber, pelvic bone pressed into the give of the mattress. I could only hope that the pressure would entice blood to those pretty pink places, engorging them and making them ache for some release, and along with that ache, that divine, soft, wet smell that made me so crazy.

My fingertips would trace tiny, light circles higher and higher until they would breach the warm heat of her, tight and slick. So hot for her, I was pushing myself into my hand, sucking on the fingers of my other hand, imagining the slick surface one other than the inside of my mouth. Imagining her scooting toward me as I slowly slid my fingers in and out; thumb brushing that ultra sensitive secret place, moaning and reaching for me, she would be desperate for an outlet for all the feelings welling up inside her.

Her hands were at my trouser buttons now, pushing the fabric over my hips, freeing me to her gaze and warm hands. I could feel her touch me, tug at me, clumsy and inexperienced, but my body sought her out, scooting to the edge of my chair to get closer, even as I focused on her building tension.

Just as her moans turned to anguished whimpers, her hands were just right: twisting and gripping in all the right places, wet digits tracing my taint, then moving farther back and pushing firmly into me, curling and rubbing. My cock turned rock hard and swelled as I panted and begged the holy trinity for release.

Just as she tumbled over the edge, calling my name, rubbing her pink nipples and lips against the mattress and her virginal tightness against my knuckles, I came so hard I cried out her name like a tortured soul begging forgiveness.

If only I could be forgiven for what I had become just with one desperate, pleasure-filled plea, maybe I could go on. But as it were, there was no hope for forgiveness for me. I truly was falling over the edge; I was no longer just experiencing a physical reaction to her. I was obsessed. The scarf, the fantasies, the waking daydreams that she could be mine, would want to be mine? They were wrong. They were adulterous. They were an outright deception of my family.

I didn't know what to do or how to resolve these feelings. I obviously couldn't act on them. I would destroy my family – my relationship with Esme, and every ounce of trust Edward ever put in me, not to mention the only happiness he'd ever discovered in his long life. But I couldn't contain it any longer. The next time I encountered her, I would slip. I nearly did the day prior, and it took every ounce to hold back then. What would happen if we were ever alone in the same location for more than just a few minutes? I would surely deflower her and in the process destroy my family…and myself.

I couldn't live without them. But I couldn't live with them and destroy everything they had come to cherish about this alternative lifestyle: each other. So I decided.

I would leave.

Esme would help them mend the rift in the family. Edward would be strong where I could not be. Emmet would remind them their love of family and their lust for life. I would be missed, but we would all survive.

And maybe someday, when she was turned, maybe she would no longer hold the reins on my sanity. Maybe the crazed flames of desire would be extinguished without her pungent humanity emanating from her. Maybe someday I could come back.

Or maybe not.

**A/N:  
><strong>  
><strong>So, you must be thinking: WHAT THE FUCK, woman? I know, I know. This chapter was supposed to be a big hunk of wankless plot development that would get us "to the good stuff" as so many of you have put it. Unfortunately, I started writing and Carlisle just wouldn't leave it alone. And by leave it, I mean his cock. <strong>_**Jesus**_**. ::wipes brow::**

**I had to send this to my beta with an embarrassing note that read something to the extent of: "Erm…so…this was not supposed to be two pages of Wankfest, but alas…."**

**Yeah.**

**DazzledIn2008 didn't care, though. Dirty h00r that she is. She didn't even reprimand me for not getting to the point in the plot where I was supposed to be. She's fawesome like that. **

**On another note: who's going to TFMU in Chicago in a few weeks?! I will be there. With bells. And probably liquor. It's vacation, man. And, as TheGreenPuma says, you can use "I have a toddler" as an excuse for almost anything. My excuse for excessive drinking in Chicago is going to be "I have TODDLERS!" So, that's how you'll be able to identify me easily. The drunkass 30-something in her ((!)) # t-shirt screaming "I have TODDLERS!" Whee! See you then!**

**THANK YOU for continuing to read. I guess that estimate that there'd be 5 or 6 chapters was way off, huh? Let me know what you think. You guys always bring up stuff I've not considered and then reactively freak out on how I'll handle later…! **

**Next up: "The good stuff". **


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